It’s that time of year again – that sad time when I’m getting close to the bottom of the tomato bowl. OF COURSE, I’m not talking about imported/Costco/mealy/poor-substitute tomatoes. It’s mid-October and the last of my home grown tomatoes are about to ripen – and be eaten – with relish (the verb not the noun.)

I come from a family of tomato eaters and I married into a family of the same. You’d think we were Italians, the way we all cultivate and nurture our own tomato plots. Rick and I have moved several times and garden-spot or not, I have always found a place to plant my own personal crop of Beefsteaks, Tiny Tims and the like – even if it was in the front yard instead of the usual petunias. Overgrown zucchini and a glut of green beans are often abandoned on doorsteps of unsuspecting friends and relatives. But no one really likes sharing their tomatoes. Not even me.

I know that my mother canned plenty of ripe tomatoes for all the soups and stews we would inhale all winter long. But the gold standard of tomato use in our family was The Tomato Sandwich. There was no need to muck about with pumpernickel or Grey Poupon or even cheese. All that was necessary was white bread, Kraft Miracle Whip, salt and pepper and a generously sliced, ripe red tomato. The result was two triangles of ambrosial goodness. It was hard to get tired of such sustenance when we were in tomato season. And even though it got a little soggy, the tomato sandwich was still a favorite sandwich to find in my lunchbox at school.

During these last tomato days, Rick and I will indulge on the weekends with tomatoes on our morning toast. I keep it regular with good old mayonnaise and a sprinkle of salt and pepper. Rick prefers to eat his toast and tomatoes – as his whole family does – with honey. And although I have been woo’d to taste and see the Donily side of many dishes, I can’t seem to cross the mayo to honey barrier. Tomato time is too short to take such a gamble.

Nowadays, if I have an overabundance of tomatoes, I throw them in the freezer whole for future butter chickens or hamburger soups. I take advantage of the green tomatoes and will bread them like they are chicken legs and fry them up at least once a season. And every supper is graced with a sliced tomato on the side in high season. Sometimes, we’ll fry up the bacon for some BLTs. But nothing – for me – will compare to the plain old humble tomato sandwich.